Crazy Like A Fox
by girl in the glen
Summary: Sometimes the asylum isn't brick and mortar, something that Napoleon is finding out when Illya refuses to follow an order. Written for PicFic Tuesday at Section VII on LJ.


"You are certifiable, you know that." Napoleon Solo was so tense he thought he could feel every muscle in his body tightening against the strain under which he now found himself.

Illya Kuryakin appeared cool, completely unruffled by the bomb that faced him. It wasn't so much the expectancy of triumph that fueled his actions now; it was more the challenge of overcoming unspeakable odds. Napoleon felt like speaking about it, however unspeakable the Russian felt about their situation.

"Illya, I told you we should just leave it here. We could have out run it had we left when I … Illya!" The blond was bowed over the small object that now threatened to blow them both into eternity. "I hear you, Napoleon. I do not have a hearing loss."

The American scowled his best imitation of an irritated bear. "Oh really. I could have sworn I told you to hightail it out of here fifteen minutes ago. That was back when we had a snowball's chance in hell. Now… gee, I don't think so, you…"

Kuryakin turned to stare down the inevitable insult. "Will you please be quiet. I need to concentrate if I'm to disarm this beauty. If you only gave this situation half the respect you accord your romantic overtures I assure you we could get away from here safe and decidedly not _blown to kingdom come_. That is the phrase you used, is it not?"

That did it. Napoleon didn't have to stick around for this nonsense. Illya could disarm the blasted bomb without him. The new partnership was in serious need of realignment when they got back to New York; if they got back to New York.

"I am the senior agent, you know. You were supposed to obey my orders and get the hell out of here back when I said to _get the hell out of here._ Or, don't you Soviet types believe in chain of command?" That brought a slight smile to the smaller man's face. _Why was it that veiled insults about one's nationality always came into play during tense situations such as this? _Illya's fingers continued to work with delicate precision as he ignored the last remark.

Napoleon was correct in assuming that his orders should have been followed, but when a man such as Kuryakin had opportunity to put into practice what he was so keenly skilled at doing, well… surely Mr. Solo didn't really expect the man who had taught demolitions at Survival School to simply walk away from this. Or did he?

One final calibration and then the snip of a wire, and silence overcame all conversation. Illya leaned back, suddenly very aware of his hand shaking slightly; he hoped that Napoleon hadn't seen it. For his part, Solo stood with his mouth set in a grim line; not completely satisfied but duly impressed just the same.

"Hmmm… that was good work Illya. I still think we could have made it out of here and saved ourselves the melodrama of this little scene.' He looked at the blond, thought he noticed a slight pallor in the younger man's complexion. "Are you all right?"

Illya stood up slowly, not wanting to lose his balance from the lightheadedness he was feeling. It was one thing to teach demolition, quite another to face down death with each tick of the timing mechanism on this monster. THRUSH had intended to destroy not only the government building but the entire block on which it was situated. All personnel had been evacuated, leaving only the two UNCLE agents. Now, in the eerie quiet left by the cessation of the ticking that had marked the timing mechanism, all that was left was for the two men to surrender it to the authorities and leave.

"It is rather anti-climactic, is it not? All of this fuss and then it is simply… over." That's when Napoleon saw the slight tremor in Illya's right hand. The adrenaline must have been nearly overwhelming, no wonder he looked pale.

"I suppose that's one way to describe it. You did a fine job, something that I admit …' Solo hated to admit he hadn't had the confidence in his new partner that was required. That would need to be rectified for future missions. Kuryakin was a very talented agent.

"Let me hand this situation over to the local authorities and then …' a grin worthy of the Cheshire lit up his face. "I'm going to buy you a drink, tovarisch. You've really earned it today."

The Russian's smile was a little less obvious, but his partner caught it and understood. This partnership was a good one, and the next time Illya said he could disarm a bomb, or a situation, Napoleon would not be inclined to doubt him.

It would be nice if he followed an order once in a while though, just for the heck of it.


End file.
